


Paint Me A Picture

by Nadja_Lee



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Leonard "Bones" McCoy is a Good Friend, Love, M/M, Permanent Injury, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-03
Updated: 2009-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadja_Lee/pseuds/Nadja_Lee
Summary: After a serious accident Jim believes Spock and he are Bonded. It turns out…Vulcans can lie.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 6
Kudos: 335





	Paint Me A Picture

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: permanent disability, angst (POV changes midway, indicated by a series of stars. Not sure if that requires a warning but better safe than sorry)

Pain. Agony. My body is on fire. Where am I? I’m on my back on a soft bed and it smells clean and sterile in here. I should recognize it but I can’t place it. Who am I? Images and bits and pieces of knowledge crashes over me like waves on a shore. Kirk. I’m James T. Kirk. Captain of…

“The ship?” I get out through bruised lips, worry sending sharp lashes of pain through my body. It’s dark. Too dark. I blink and the darkness prevails. I fight down beginning terror. Why can’t I see?

“Safe. Only you were injured.” A calm voice. A beloved voice which calms me at once. Yet why does he sound so sad? Somehow I know I should be more interested in the ship, should push for details but my memories escape me and only my emotions remain clear to me. As always he is the center of those emotions.

“Spock?” there is a small smile in my words; I never was good at hiding my affection for him. I may not remember anything else but this I am certain of.

“Yes, Jim?” Such pain in his voice. I never want him to hurt. My brain is chaotic; I cannot gather my thoughts. I don’t know what happened but I trust Spock with everything I am. The ship is safe; he must be safe as well. It suddenly occurs to me that I must be in sickbay. Why is he here? Could he be…? Panic washes over me yet again. 

“Are you hurt?”

A sigh close to a pained moan sound from him. He is sitting close to me on my right side, near by elbow judging from the distance of his voice. “You are asking me if…” his voice die away, strangled in such raw pain as I have never heard it before. “No, I am uninjured,” he get out and I let out a relieved breath.

“Jim, you’re in sickbay. You managed to disable the alien device just in time but didn’t get clear of the blast. Your eyes…” Now also Bones cuts himself off, pain and frustration in his voice. He too is close, standing on the other side of my bed. 

I feel a strange calm come over me then; shock probably as I say the words he can’t. “I’m blind.”

“Yes.”

“Permanently?” Strange how calm I sound; how calm I feel.

“For now. Jim, I will find a cure. There’s got to be a way,” Bones says and from his frustration I gather he has tried for some days already.

I nod but do not reply. Panic, loss and fear threatens me then. I will never see anything again; not the ship, my mother…I will never see how McCoy looks at me, concern hidden within sarcasm. Worse of all…I will never see Spock again. See those intelligent dark eyes sparkle the way they only does for me, see that small hint of a smile. No. No; I won’t feel sorry for myself. When Spock was faced with blindness he kept his calm; I can do nothing less. Many beings are born blind; I’ve had many years of sight. I will always be able to call those up. Spcok will remain forever young and safe within my memories. Despite the chaos of my memories I have several clear flashes with Spock and I feel certain with time I will recall even more episodes.

“How long have I been out?”

“4.6 days,” Spock supplies. He sounds a little calmer now but pain is still almost radiating from him. Why is he so worried? Should I be more worried? There is something just out of reach; a truth I cannot comprehend.

Another stab of pain hit my body and my mind. My brain feel like it is on fire and I grimace.

“I will…” Bones begin and I know he wants to sedate me.

“No. Not yet!” I order with as much command as I can muster. The pain subsides somewhat. “Will I recover?”

“Yes. You have a good chance now that your fever has broken. We feared we should lose you…” Bones admits and I can hear his worry heavily in his voice.

Spock has been strangely silent yet I feel his presence beside me. The last thoughts I have is of him. That I love him. My memories keep jumping and I can’t remember the explosion or the ordeal which must have preceded it. I can’t remember anything in sequential order; the last many months in particular seem clouded in darkness. Yet I remember my feelings for Spock. I remember…us kissing, embracing, a Bond between us mentally and physically which ties us closer than anything ever could. His presence warm and always near; never alone. Never in darkness. I cannot remember anything else but the conclusion is clear; we must have Bonded. How I wish to remember; I have dreamed of this for years – ever since I first saw Spock. My tall, mysterious First Officer. Always loyal, always there. One of his none-smiles would lighten my soul for days. I smile in spite of myself but as I reach towards that warm presence within me it is lost.

“Spock, why can’t I feel our Bond?” I try not to panic but I know some of my anxiety must have crept through.

There is dead silence for what seems like years. Then Bones’ says, “You are very weak. You should….”

“Jim, why do you ask this?” Spock’s voice, puzzled and again with pain.

Suddenly I understand his pain; if I am blocking the Bond it must pain him too. A terrible thought hits me.

“You can’t feel my pain, can you? Though the Bond? You’re blocking it, right?”

It is enough I have to fight the blazing agony which seem to settle in my brain but he should not have to suffer it as well. I reach out a hand in his general direction and after longer than I think it should take his hand settles warm inside my own. I give it a reassuring squeeze.

“I cannot feel your pain unless I meld with you,” Spock replies; his voice is filled with unspoken emotions I can’t decipher.

I sigh in relief. “Good.”

There is silence again and I squeeze Spock’s hand again, calmed by this physical connection. “Tell me of our Bonding.”

“Our Bonding?” Spock repeats, puzzled.

I know it must hurt him that I cannot remember but I really wish to. I bring our connected hands to my lips and softly kiss the back of his hand. His skin is warm and soft against my lips. He draws a deep breath as if my gesture surprises him. Did I never before show my affection so openly? That doesn’t seem like me but if for some reason I didn’t I vow to make up for it right now.

“I love you; I want to remember. Spock, paint me a picture…please.”

As I lower our connected hands back to my side he squeezes my hand almost painfully but I don’t mind. He clears his throat and if he was Human I would say emotions were threatening to rob him of his voice. I wish our Bond was open so I could reassure him but I guess it is best it isn’t; I do not want him to feel my pain. “Go on, t’hy’la,” I urge him and use the word I somehow know he calls me inside his mind. I must have gotten it from our Bond.

“I…it was a beautiful ceremony, Jim. We were Bonded on Vulcan 2.3 years ago. We later had a ceremony on Terran when we docked for repairs as your family had been unable to attend us on Vulcan.”

“Those are facts, Spock. Describe it for me. Paint me a picture,” I beg, a small smile curving my lips. My factual Bondmate; how I love him.

“You wore a white robe with golden tread. You looked breathtaking. I wore black with silver. You commented it made me look…sexy.” Spock’s voice is deep and thick with emotions I can’t pinpoint.

I smile at his words and the image it paints. “That sounds like me.”

“You convinced my father our Bonding was logical. He therefore approved of the match. My mother is very fond of you; we have been to Vulcan twice since our Bonding and you often spent many hours talking with her.”

“What do we do together?” I ask and I feel my body starting to fight me; I am drained of energy.

There is a pause before Spock says, his voice warm and fond, “We play chess as we always have. We… camp together. We share meals, ideas, thoughts. You are teaching me Tarran poetry and literature; I am teaching you Vulcan philosophy and music. At times I simply hold you in my arms and your head will rest against my shoulder; there is no need for words. Those are the times which are most previous to me. Through our Bond we are always together; never separated. We know each other’s feelings and thoughts. We can feel each other from across the universe. Your voice, your essence, rests within me as I do within you.” Spock’s voice dies away; it has become hoarse and raw.

I smile at the thought; that sounds wonderful. “I can’t wait to remember all that. It sounds amazing; just how I always wanted it to be.”

“It is,” Spock comments, his voice still raw and pained.

“I WILL remember,” I promise him, guessing at the cause of his distress. Exhaustion and pain is about to overtake me that there is one thing I need before I can close my eyes.

“Kiss me,” I beg. Again he hesitates longer than I think he should considering we’re Bonded but I guess it is because Bones is still standing by my bed as well. Spock has always been fiercely private. When his lips touch mine they are warm, soft and ever so gentle; filled with love and a bitter sadness I do not understand.

As he draw back, our hands still connected I whisper, “I love you, t’hy’la.”

Then I close my eyes, contentment in my heart and a smile on my lips as I realize as long as we are together I have no fears.

* * *

After McCoy has given Jim a hypo and has checked his vitals he turns to me, a haunted look on his face.

“I thought Vulcans could not lie,” he says softly.

“It is enough that I carry the truth,” I reply simply.

Vulcans are not incapable of lying; it is simply normally illogical to do so in a society filled with telepaths. Among Humans…. I force my attention back to McCoy as my hand let go of Jim’s. I put his hand gently back on the covers.

“You too lied to him,” I say, my eyes still on Jim. He looks young and vulnerable in sleep; he always has.

“What do you mean?”

I look at him. “You let him to believe he would be well.”

“He will be,” McCoy insist stubbornly.

I shook my head; a Human trait I have taken upon me after so many years spent among them.

“He will live but he will never see again. He will never command a Starship again. His mind…” I have to draw a breath before I can continue, needing the extra seconds to regain control, “his mind will always be in chaos.”

His brilliant mind; the essence of him. The part which has always drawn me to him. The loss makes me understand bitterness; it is indeed a terrible emotion.

“God damn it, Spock! Don’t you think I know that?!” McCoy yells and I can almost feel the emotional backlash from his frustration and pain. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“What are we to do? What is he to do?” he nods towards Jim.

“That decision has already been made,” I reply and rise from the chair I have occupied besides Jim’s medical bed for the last 6.7 hours since he came out of surgery.

“And do you care to share with the class?” McCoy asks bitterly. He always lashes out when he is hurt or worried and thus I ignore his outburst.

“I have charted a course for Vulcan…” I begin.

“For Vulcan?!” McCoy repeats, perplexed.

“I have long been offered an interesting assignment with the Vulcan Science Academy. I shall take it.”

“You will give up your command?!” McCoy asks shocked.

I feel tempted to point out that it is Jim who loves the stars so much. While I certainly find my position in Starfleet both interesting and satisfactory it is not more important than Jim; I now know nothing is. Without him at the ship I see no logical reason to remain.

The doctor’s features softens as he asks, “You’ll be doing this for Jim, won’t you?”

I do not think that requires an answer so instead I say, “He shall stay with me.”

My voice leaves no room for argument; I almost lost him. He was so close to death. His soul and mind has been shattered but he is still here and he is mine. I shall never let him go again.

McCoy is silent for some minutes. “You know, it was a beautiful story you told Jim but it was just that; a story. You will not have any authority to keep Jim with you.”

“I will if we are Bonded.”

“But you’re not!” McCoy yells with something close to agonized frustration.

“I know.”

I try to hide the pain but it must be evident because the look in McCoy’s eyes softens. I regain my control and state calmly, “but no one else knows this. A record from the Chief Medical Officer on the Enterprise supporting my claim that the captain and I Bonded…. 2.4 months ago, will be taken as proof enough.”

We had been on leave at that time. It would be a creditable place to believe we had formed the complete mental Bond shared by Bondmates.

“Any telepath can feel the Bond is not there.”

“This is true. However, the captain’s mind has become so shattered a Bond is not possible. No telepath will be able to tell if one has ever existed.”

McCoy is silent for a few seconds. “I would be falsifying records; I would not only be breaking my oath to Starfleet but also as a physician.”

He is stating facts but I sense he expects a reply so I simply say, “Yes, Doctor.”

There is nothing but conviction in my voice; this will happen. Anything else would be illogical. I always have been and always shall be Jim’s. I know that now.

“You sure don’t ask a lot, do you?” He says softly and walks to his office.

I know I don’t; I am also as always counting on his humanity and love for Jim to far outweigh any and all concerns he has. I follow him after making sure Jim is still soundly asleep. When he is seated he pours himself a drink. He offers one to me and for once I accept. McCoy drowns his first drink and pours himself a second. I choose not to comment; I am not blind to the pain he has gone through these past few days. After a few more seconds McCoy raises his eyes from his drink to look at me.

“If I do this…and I mean if, I need to believe, to know, truly know that you’re aware of what you are getting yourself into.”

“I know what I am doing, Doctor,” I say with certainly.

“Do you?” He takes a sip from his drink before he continues. “He will remain blind. There are various devices he had have which will help him. A robe made like Miranda’s dress for example, but it will not change the fact that he is blind. Other than this he will physically recover. However, his mind will, as you yourself pointed out, be in chaos. He will not be able to remember events clearly or sequentially. He will likely never remember the explosion or the last few months which preceded it.”

I does not comment that I find this to be for the best; our relationship had suffered since our shore leave 2.4 months ago and I would rather he was spared reliving this pain. “The assault on his mind by the alien…” he takes a deep breath, clearly fighting back memories of that terrible moment where we all had to watch while the alien entity fought the captain for control of his mind. His will is strong and his mind better shielded than I have ever encouraged in any non-telepath. Only this can explain how he managed to fight the control from the alien long enough to set off the explosion which would safe the ship and thus the galaxy; but which he knew would likely catch him in its wave. As the explosion happened I was too far away to reach him but our minds sought each other and I felt his thoughts focus on me. This knowledge; that had he perished I would have been his last thought despite my refusal 2.4 months ago was harder to bear than anything I have ever encouraged.

“His emotions will likely be close to the surface; the rational shields of his mind are not easily accessible to him anymore,” McCoy continues, unable of my inner musings.

“I can deal with his emotions and I will shield his mind from others,” I promise, saying it like the vow it is. In a world of telepaths this is more important than anything else.

McCoy nods.

“I know you want to protect him; I know he is your friend. Yet why bind yourself to him now? I know what a record of a Bond indicates; it is a lifelong commitment. Even though you will long outlive him we are still talking about many years together. He would not want this sacrifice; you know that.” His voice is filled with puzzled compassion.

“Because Doctor…” I take a deep breath but then continue; I owe him the truth if nothing else, “because at that shore leave 2.4 months ago, Jim told him he loved me. All I described to him today could have been true.”

“What happened?” McCoy press, not without empathy when I fall silent.

“I was too afraid of my Human emotions to embrace his offer of love,” I admit with bitterness and shame.

“Doing so now won’t change the past,” McCoy says and for once I find his argument to be logical.

I nod.

“I know.”

There is silence for a while. McCoy drowns his drink and I sip mine.

“Why do you really want this? It is a lifelong commitment to a man who will never be the man you knew.” McCoy’s pain and bitterness at this is clear; he seem like a man who would love to fight any God he may believe in for Jim’s fate.

“He will always be the man I want. That is all that matters.”

“Without the Bond will you be able to survive Pon Farr?” McCoy asks with a doctor’s frankness.

“We share a light Bond, spontaneously created as our minds are very attuned. This and the physical joining will be sufficient.”

“But is it what you want?” McCoy pressures.

I know what he want me to say – need me to say - and today, only today, I will say it.

“I love him, Doctor. I have since I first saw him.”

McCoy smile then but it is bittersweet.

“You will be living on a lie. He thinks you have been Bonded for a long time. He will likely forget he isn’t the captain anymore. You could…” he hesitates and a hint of self-loathing enters his voice as he continues, “you could even claim you two were only temporarily stationed at Vulcan; he should still be able to teach and take part in some political and strategic decision making. Starfleet Command will likely promote him to Admiral for what he did; he saved us all and the galaxy but lost himself.” McCoy says bitterly.

At this moment I think Jim may the lucky one; he will be shielded from the pain of loss. He will never know what he has lost. I will endure it. McCoy will have to deal with it ever day for the rest of his life. “Hell, you could tell him the loss of a complete Bond between you two is temporary as well. In his state he would readily believe you; he wants to believe it.”

“I know.” I had thought of doing just that.

McCoy sighs and after finishing his second drink he says, “I’ll sign the documents.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

I never doubted he wouldn’t. His hesitation was illogic; Jim would be happy. It is irrelevant that some of that happiness is artificially created.

As I reach the door to leave his office his voice reaches me, “The picture you paint for him will make him happy and you could likely shield him so he will live out the rest of his life in this artificial bobble of happiness. But you will know the truth.”

My eyes have caught Jim’s form in the hospital bed outside McCoy’s room but in the doorway I turn back and look at the doctor.

“Yes.”

“Will **you** be happy like this?” McCoy asks softly, his voice filled with concern. “You wanted that picture too, didn’t you?” he adds, his voice filled with shared sadness.

“That is irrelevant. I had my opportunity and I turned it down.” The sadness in his eyes makes me amend my words, “I will be…happy.”

With that I leave the room. When I reach Jim’s bed I stop and bend down to softly kiss his forehead. My beloved t’hy’la. Jim must have picked up the name from our many melds. My soul will wander in darkness in the years to come but I shall not let him go again. I turned him down once and I will not let him go now. Jim was the one who loved the stars and I shall do my best to give him as much of his life and joy as his present situation enables. He will only ever be my bondmate on paper but that will have to be enough. The picture I paint for him….that perfect future which should have been ours. Maybe, maybe with time I too will be able to believe it is true if only for a second or two. Just a second or two before facts can no longer be denied. Yet I am Vulcan and I can never ignore the facts. The picture I can paint to Jim is taken from his own mind from the last meld we shared; it is his imagination, it is his dream. A dream I turned down. As a Vulcan I am unable to create such beautiful images as his mind always was able to. First now, as I stood to lose him did I admit how much I love him. I did not lie to McCoy; I will be happy in my own way for Jim will remain with me. Yet…Jim’s picture is burned on my mind and while I can convince Jim it is true I must live with the knowledge that it never will be.

**The end**


End file.
